


Monster Hunter International: Encounters

by Arlux1313



Series: Syracuse team [1]
Category: Monster Hunter International Series - Larry Correia
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-02
Updated: 2016-05-01
Packaged: 2018-05-04 12:01:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5333351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arlux1313/pseuds/Arlux1313
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You know something? I never thought I would end up hunting monsters for a living. I never thought I wold find out what I really am. I never thought that it would be me who was supposed to prevent the end of the world. But I did find out, and I wouldn't have it any other way. My name is Alex Morrison, and this is my story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. First Encounter

You know a few years ago, if someone had told me I’d be hunting monsters for a living, I would have thought that person would have been bat-shit insane. Of course that all changed real fast in October. Of all things, of all nights it just had to be on Halloween. Now I like the holiday, candy’s good, kids are happy going trick-or-treating, and there are some really good horror movies on T.V. Now that being said, I’m kinda freaked out by Jason Voorhees, however that is a different story. Now on this particular night, I was closing up my department at my local grocery store. A Wegmans in Syracuse New York, when I get paged over the store’s PA. 

“Alex to the back room. Alex Morrison to the back room please.” The voice said over the PA.

I rolled my eyes, and growled in irritation. Just what I needed. It was 8:30 pm, and I was already behind in closing up my part of the store. But I was just a low level employee, so there wasn’t really much I could do, so I made my way through the Produce cooler, into the loading docks, and walked through a small archway into the back room. And I could see why I got called back too. There was a mountain of cardboard boxes stacked up around the cardboard baler.

“Great. That means the damn thing’s fucked up … Again.” I growled clearly irritated. However since I was still a low level employee, there wasn’t much I could do.

Fortunately, someone had been nice enough to load all the boxes onto several green carts, so I hauled them off to the other side of the store two carts at a time. Of course since I didn’t feel like putting these boxes in the other bailer, I decided to leave them there, and let someone from the night shift deal with them.

I had just gotten back to where the mountains of boxes were, when I became aware that something was behind me. I turned around, and standing a few feet away was … Well he was something else alright. His head was tilted slightly to his right, his eyes were slightly widened, giving him this slightly crazy look. The guy’s hair, face, and the front of his shirt looked to be covered in fake blood. But the kicker, was the smile. It gave him this deranged ‘I’m about to fuck your shit up’ look.

“Woah man. Nice costume, but there isn’t a party here.” I said to the guy, and his smile only got wider.

“Well there is about to be.” He said almost giddily, as he showed his teeth with his wide smile, revealing two elongated incisors. 

That's when I got it. What his costume was. At least back then I thought it was a costume. He was a vampire. And then things got crazy when he leapt at me. The guy tackled me through one of the carts, sending boxes everywhere and knocking the wind out of me slightly. I’ll give the guy this, he was strong. He tried to make a break for my neck, but I brought my foot up into his crotch. The nut groaned in pain, and I pushed him off, and pushed him off hard. Now I’m a decently sized guy. 6’0, slightly decent build although I am a little out of shape. But I was still strong enough to send the crazy nut job off of me, and into the corner of the cardboard baler with a resounding clang!

“Seriously, what the fuck is wrong with you!?” I screamed at the guy as he got up. Although, he didn’t look like hitting the back of his head on the bailer had hurt him at all. In fact he looked pissed off.

He leaped at me again, but I lashed out with my left leg and kicked him in the chest. But he caught my leg. I had never even seen him move his arms to grab my leg. And then incredible pain shot up my leg, as he brought one of his arms down snapping my leg. I screamed and dropped to the ground, trying to back away from my attacker and look for anything I could defend myself with.

“Nothing is wrong with me.” He said happily as he slowly made his way forward. “I am a god.”

“God!?” I screamed in incredulity and pain, as I continued to back away from him. “I don’t know what drug you’re on, but you’re no god. You’re fucking insane!”

He looked down at me, and snarled. “That’s no way to talk to a god!”

My fingers closed around something as he voiced his objections, and swung whatever it was at this fucker’s head. What I was rewarded with, was the look of shock on his face when the axe I had swung at his head impacted with his left temple. Don’t ask what an axe was doing in the back room of a grocery store, because I had no idea what it was doing there either. Of course, the thought that I had won was dashed, and I was shocked and horrified when his look of shock turned into a look of pure anger. He reached up, and snapped the axe. Although the blade was still stuck in his head. He snarled as he picked me up by the throat with inhuman strength, and held me up in the air.

“I’ll show you what happens when you defy God!” He snarled at me, but I still had the haft of the axe in my hand. I gripped it as hard as I could, and stabbed him in the chest. Hell this guy wanted to dress and act like a Vampire, then he was gonna get the whole treatment. Stake through the heart and everything.

The third big surprise of that night, was that when I did that, the flesh around the wound began to smoulder, and my attacker dropped me to the ground only to began writing in pain. I couldn’t believe it though. Usually when someone gets stabbed in the chest, they die instantly. The wounds don’t start to smoke.

“Fuck me.” I said, from a crumpled heap on the ground. As my broken leg had buckled the second I had hit the floor. “You aren’t just fucking around. You’re an actual Vampire.”

Now it was my turn to go from shocked to anger. I was attacked at my job, on Halloween, by an actual Vampire, who wanted to make me his next snack. It then dawned on me at the same time, that all that red stuff on his head and shirt, was actual blood. He had killed and fed on other innocent people. That infuriated me, and I decided that wasn’t gonna happen to anyone anymore. Not by this fucker’s hand. Fueled by adrenaline, and anger, I used my good leg, and pushed the makeshift stake further into the Vampire’s chest. That not caused him even greater pain, but it sent him over the safety rail of the store’s trash compactor.

“And there’s also something else you are.” I snarled, gritting my teeth and fighting through the pain of my broken leg. “You’re dead!” I growled and pressed the start button to the compactor. 

For the second time that night, I felt as if something was behind me. However, as I wasn’t in a very good position to move, I took a look over my shoulder and scoffed. Standing behind me with their weapons drawn, were at least half a dozen cops. Of course I couldn’t hear what they were saying to me, as my eyes had rolled into the back of my skull, and I blacked out.


	2. Rude awakening

Chapter 2. Rude awakening.

I faded in and out of consciousness for what seemed like hours, before I finally woke up. In a hospital. Well it figures, that Vampire had snapped my leg. I woke up to the sight of my leg in a heavy cast, and the sound of an EKG machine beeping. My wrapped up leg had been slightly elevated. Okay that Vampire must have really fucked up my leg. I thought irritatedly. And that’s when I noticed something else.

There were two men standing on the right side of my hospital bed. They were wearing cheap off the rack suits, and they had the ‘I seriously don’t want to be here right now’ expression on their face. These guys just screamed Federal Agent. One of them had movie star good looks. Why this guy wanted to be a fed was beyond me. The other looked like D. J. Cotrona. Those of you who that is, he was Flint in G. I. Joe Retaliation, and despite what some people think, that was a good movie. 

“Ah good to see you’re awake now Mr. Morrison.” The movie star fed started.

I groaned, and sat up slightly. “How long have I been out?” I asked, having no idea what the feds were doing in my hospital room. “And what hospital is this?” I asked this, as there were four in Syracuse. Community General, up by the local Community College. University Medical Center, and Crouse Hospital were pretty much the same building, and then there was the Veterans Medical Care.

“You were fading in and out of consciousness for the first five hours.” The Cotrona look alike said. “You were sleeping soundly for the past seven.”

I let out a low whistle. “Twelve hours. It couldn’t have been that bad, I mean all I have is a broken leg.”

The good looking movie star fed shook his head. “Actually Mr. Morrison, while your leg is broken, you also have several cracked ribs, and your right ankle is dislocated. The Vampire you killed last night, did quite a number on you. Hell you’re lucky to have gotten off as easy as you did.”

My eyes widened, and my blood turned to ice. “So that guy really was a Vampire? I wasn’t just hallucinating? You’re telling me that wasn’t some sort of fucked up dream, and I didn’t just get into a really bad car accident?”

Again, the really good looking fed shook his head. “I’m sorry Mr. Morrison, but you weren’t dreaming. That was indeed a Vampire you killed last night.”

My head started spinning. Vampire’s were real, and that raised a whole other crop of questions. “Okay, If Vampires are real, does that mean Werewolves are too?” I asked with some slight incredulity.

The Cotrona look alike noded. “And a whole mess of other nasty things that go bump in the night.” 

I sighed again, and leaned back against my pillow. “So who the hell are you guys? F.B.I. C.I.A. N.S.A.?” I asked again, and the good looking agent shook his head.

“No. I’m Agent Jefferson.” He said indicating himself. “And my partner. Agent Locke. We’re called M.C.B. An agency known only to people who had an encounter with Supernatural creatures.”

“Okay. Well why are you here? And you still haven’t answered my question. What hospital is this?” I asked the feds.

“You’re at Community General Hospital Mr. Morrison.” Agent Locke said as he handed me a newspaper, and the front headline stated. ‘Local man kills drug addict.’ “That Mr. Morrison is the official story, and we would appreciate it if you would stick to that story.” 

Another low whistle later, I asked the feds another question. “Just out of curiosity, why is this the official story?” 

“We really don’t have to answer that.” Locke replied. “Just trust us. It would be better to stick to this story and be a hero.”

I nodded a few times. “I’m guessing that if I don’t, then my official story would be that I went ‘missing’ or something along those lines.”

Agent Jefferson nodded, with a grim expression on his face. “Yeah, that’s usually how it goes.”

“Think I’ll stick to this then.” I replied tapping the newspaper.

“Good choice Mr. Morrison.” Agent Jefferson said with an almost relieved smile. “Well I hope you recover quickly.” And with that, the two M.C.B feds left my room.

No sooner did the feds leave, than my mother, little brother, and baby sister rushed in. My mother’s name is Anna has a shocking resemblance to Kate Beckinsale from her role as Selene in Underworld. Only with slightly longer hair. And my younger teenage brother Thom … Oh man how do I describe him? Well the best way to sum it up, is that he looks like what you would get if you crossed Austin Aries without his facial hair, and CM Punk. Now my baby sister, Katie is adorable. Now since I’m not all that good with descriptions, picture what an eleven year old Aela The Huntress from Skyrim would look like, and that’s my little sister.There was both intense worry, yet immense relief in their expressions when they saw me. The three began plying me with questions, but no sooner than they did this, than a slightly gruff Irish accented voice cut them off. 

“Alright you two, that’s quite enough.” I knew that accent anywhere. It was my dad Lucas Morrison.

Now my dad I swear to God you can’t make this up, could pass for Paul Levesque's twin brother. Those of you who don’t know who he is, his other name would be Triple H. Now my dad, to use the term ‘badass’ would be insulting. The man served in Desert Storm, was there during the Black Hawk incident in Mogadishu, and did eight tours in Iraq and Afghanistan. The man knew every which way to disarm someone, holding any and I mean any type of weapon weather it was a gun, a knife, or a blunt object. He knew practically every martial art on the planet, and there was nothing in the world that could scare him. 

My dad looked me over once, took one of the chairs in the room, placed it next to my bed, and clapped his hand on my shoulder. “So you got the shite beaten out of you by some druggie?” He said still using his accent. Like the rest of our family, it only popped up when we were upset, worried, or under any form of emotional duress.

However, when my dad asked his question, I simply responded with. “No I had some of your cooking.” I swear he couldn’t breathe he was laughing so hard.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3. Recovery and old friends.

A few days later, I got discharged from Community General. That being said, I was in no condition to do much of anything, as my left leg was still in a heavy cast. My right ankle had been tapped up too. Also seeing as my doctors didn’t want me to much of anything, since I didn’t have full use of both legs, they had me confined to a wheelchair for several weeks. But It wasn’t all bad, since I had somehow been able to convince my parents I could still take care of myself. So on the upside I was still staying in my apartment. Even though my mom still insisted on staying there to take care of me. But I didn’t really complain about that. She’s the only one in my house that can cook. My dad always joked about some family curse, that the men in our family couldn’t cook. Not my great-grandpa, not my grandpa, not my dad, not my oldest brother John, not myself, and certainly not Thom. So yeah, it’s very well established that the men in the Morrison family can’t cook to save their lives. On the other side of that coin though, the women in my family are artists with food. So I was not complaining when my mom stayed with me for the first couple of weeks. 

Katie and Thom also stopped by pretty often. Katie just wanted to hear the story of how I had dealt with that ‘drug addic.,’ Much to my mom’s distain. Thom just came over to (attempt) to kick my ass in Call of Duty. Although secretly, I think he was there to keep guard over me. Which was kinda nice when you think about it, although kinda backwards too, as me being the older brother should be looking out for my little brother. But hell I’m not gonna complain. Thom might seem like a scrawny little punk rocker, but he could move like Bruce Lee, and punch like Mike Tyson.

But there was some good news, and a pretty cool surprise that came a few weeks later. My big heavy-ass cast on my left leg came off, but was replaced by a smaller cast that ran from the lower part of my knee, to my foot just leaving my toes bare. I didn’t have to use the wheelchair to get around my apartment, as I had a pair of crutches now, and had full use of my right leg. My mom decided that I was able to take care of myself, but left a few of her recipes, and very explicit instructions on how to do everything.

The day after my mom left, I had just taken a shepherd's pie out of the oven. Hoping that I hadn’t done anything wrong to it. But I was surprised to find it tasted pretty damn good. I had just finished my plate, when my cell phone began playing Living Color’s ‘Cult of Personality.’ My eyes widened, as that was the ringtone I reserved for my friend Pat, and I hadn’t seen him in four years. I picked up my phone, and hit the green button on the screen.

“Hello?”

“Alex? You home?”

I couldn’t believe it. “Pat? Pat Martin!?” I asked incredulously.

“Yeah it’s me.” He said from the other side. “Now you gonna let me in or what?”

I hobbled over to the door on my crutches, and unlocked my door. It swung open, and standing in the doorway was my best friend Patrick Martin. I hadn’t seen him in four years, but the guy hadn’t changed. He stood at 6’2, still had his black hair shortened, he still dressed in all black right down to the damn jeans, wore the same pair of sunglasses and poking out under the sleeve of his his Under Armor shirt, I could still see the bottom of his Celtic Cross tattoo on his upper left forearm.

I scoffed at seeing him. “Shit man. You haven’t changed in four years.”

He laughed slightly as we bumped fists. “Neither have you. Still working at Wegmans?”

I inhaled slightly and rubbed the back of my head, as he entered my apartment. “Yeah about that. I don’t think I’m going back to work there. Not since-”

“Not since you got your ass handed to you by a Vampire right?” A second person said as they stepped into the doorway. 

This newcomer was clearly female. She had dark skin, and her black hair was wrapped up into long dreadlocks, and there was a bandana tied around the top of her forehead. She had on a dark brown leather jacket, a pair of faded jeans, and a worn pair of Converse sneakers.

“Isabelle Singer.” She said extending her hand, and smiling. 

“Alex Morrison.” I replied, and shaking her hand. I was surprised at how strong her grip was. But even more surprised to hear that she knew about that Vampire. “But that was a drug addict not a Vampire Miss Singer.”

Now it was Patrick’s turn to scoff. “Oh bullshit it was.” 

I looked to him in surprise. “How do you know anyways?”

“Let me guess Alex. Two guys in cheap-ass suits paid you a visit, and told you to keep your mouth shut or otherwise you’d end up dead?” Pat asked.

I nodded. “Yeah pretty much. So what are you and Miss Singer here for?”

“You can call me Isabelle.” She said. “I hate formalities.”

“Alright Isabelle.” I replied. “But my question still stands. What are guys here for?”

Pat spoke up again. “Think of it as a job offer.”

I tilted my head slightly, as I looked at him. “A job offer? What sort of job?” I asked him.

“Doing what you did a few weeks ago.” Was his reply.

“What? Getting my ass handed to me by a Vampire?” I asked.

Isabelle shook her head. “No. You’d be hunting monsters.”

“You see Alex.” Pat started. “Belle and I work for a company called Monster Hunter International. Or M.H.I. for short. M.H.I. Is the premier monster hunting company in the world. We’re for-profit. Completely privately funded, and we handle monster problems all over the world.”

I let out a low whistle. “So that explains why you went off the grid for four years. You’ve been playing the part of Sam and Dean Winchester?”

Isabelle couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh God if we had those boys working for us, M.H.I. Would kick even more ass than we do now. And believe me, that is saying something. Oh before I forget.” 

She took out an envelope out from her jacket pocket, and handed it to me. “This is yours.” She said.

My eyebrows furrowed. “What is it?” I asked cautiously.

“It’s your PUFF bounty.” Pat replied.

“What the hell is PUFF?” I asked.

Isabelle chimed in. “It stands for ‘Peripheral Unearthly Forces Fund.’ It was started by Teddy Roosevelt back in 1902. It’s the system used to pay people who hunt monsters.”

I nodded, and opened the envelope, and my jaw hit the floor when I saw what that Vampire was worth.

“$1.2 million!?” I practically screamed, and Pat just smiled.

“That never gets old.” He told Isabella, who noded.

“$1.2 million!?” I exclaimed again.

“Easy Alex.” Pat said. “Try to breathe.”

I looked at my best friend. “It’s kinda hard to breathe, when I’m holding a check for $1.2 million.”

“Fair enough. So are you in?” 

I took a deep breath, and noded. “Oh hell yes I’m in. But…”

“But what?” Pat asked.

I knocked on my cast, and said in my best impression of Dean Winchester. “Bobby I’m a gimp.”

Isabelle chuckled, and placed a card in my hand. “Alright when you’re healed up, call the number on the card. Ask for Earl Harbinger. Tell him who you are, and that we talked to you.” 

I smiled and noded again, but I still had a couple of questions. “Okay, so I’m guessing that there is some sort of training program involved?”

Isabelle noded. “A pretty damn intense one at that.”

“What about guns? I seriously doubt you guys hunt monsters with just your hands and feet.”

Pat noded. “You can bring your own, but we have a pretty decent armory of our own.”

“I’m not surprised.” I chuckled. “Okay, that aside. Are there any specifics for the weapons?”

“Actually there are.” Isabelle replied. “Three-oh-eight Winchester, or two-two-three Remington for rifles. Forty five ACP for sub-guns. Same round for hand guns, but we also take forty Smith and Weston. And twelve gauge for shotguns.”

I whistled clearly impressed. “That’s a lot of hardware.”

“Yeah, you really lucked out man.” Pat said. “A little while ago, we were limited to just the three-oh-eight, the twelve gauge, and the forty five.”

“Well you recover, and hopefully we’ll see you soon.” Isabelle said, as she left my apartment. Pat and I bumped fists, but he walked back in a second later. 

“I almost forgot. I got you something.” He said with a long box in his hand. He smiled as he opened the box, and my eyes widened when I was looking at an exact replica of Barry Burton’s 96f Beretta.

“Four years. Four years, and you still know I’m a Resident Evil fan?” I said completely floored. 

“It’s for the Zombies.” He said laughing, as we bumped fists again.

After he left, I took the check to the bank, and was surprised when the PUFF bounty actually cleared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually finished this story at the beginning of the year. The full thing is up on Fanfiction.net under the same title. I wanted to post it here as well, as my sequel is being uploaded on this sight as well. Hope everyone is enjoying what they're reading, and happy hunting.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4. Serious hardware

About a week after Pat’s visit, my second cast came off, and that’s when I made the call to Earl Harbinger. Unfortunately, Earl told me that a ‘Newbie Course’ as he called it had already started, and there wouldn’t be another one for the next four months. I was pissed off yeah, but then I remembered that Isabelle had said that M.H.I’s training was pretty damn intense. So I decided that it was time I got back in shape. I practically threw myself into training. Gym memberships, martial arts training, I also got my Beretta registered. No sense than walking around with an unregistered weapon. After two months, I was back in peak condition, and hopefully I was ready for what M.H.I could throw at me. 

Of course there was still the matter of better arming myself. I remember Pat telling me that they had a decent armory, but I’d rather bring my own guns. But there was still a small matter to take care of first. I needed a car. I took the bus down to Romano Ford down on North Burdick Street, and looked around at the trucks and Mustangs, smiling in approval. Hey don’t judge, I’m a Ford guy. No sooner did I start admiring one of the GT’s, than a salesperson walked up to me.

“May I help you Sir?” He asked politely.

“Yeah, I’m looking for a car.” I told him. “You have any suggestions?” 

“Looking to impress your girlfriend?” He asked again, smiling slightly.

I shook my head. “Unfortunately I’m single.” I started. “But I’m not here to talk about my personal life.”

“I understand.” The salesperson said. “So what interests you?”

I shrugged and looked around. I wasn’t really sure what I wanted. Sure I had $1.2 million to spend, but spend it on what was the question. And that was answered, when my eyes fell on a black Cobra. 

“That Cobra.” I said pointing, and the salesman’s eyes widened.

“Sir, that Cobra costs $250,000. I don’t believe that’s in your price range.” He said slightly floored.

I scoffed once. “I’ll take it.” I said plainly.

The salesman looked at me like I was insane. “Sir might I suggest-”

“I’ll take it.” I said cutting him off. “Price isn’t the issue for me.”

Twenty minutes later, I was the proud owner of a 5.0L supercharged, 8 cylinder, 832 horsepower, 3-speed CS auto race transmission, black Ford Cobra. Now with the car out of the way, all I had to do next was properly arm myself, and I knew just where to go. Intimidator Armory.

It was only a short drive downtown to Intimidators, and I knew exactly who would be there. Hell they guy never shut the hell up about working there. I passed through the front door, and was greeted to applause by the guy behind the counter.

“Oh there he is. Mr. Drug buster.” My friend Brian said, with the biggest smile on his face.

I couldn’t help but laugh, as I made my way forward. “What’s going on fat boy?”

He laughed. “Oh you know. Same shit different day. So what brings you in?”

I smirked as I looked at him. “I need some decent guns.”

“Aw hell yeah man. You came to the right place. So what are you in the mood for?”

I paused for a few seconds, before responding. “I could use a decent shotgun. What do you have in stock?”

Brian scoffed. “What kind of shotgun you want? We’ve got, autoloaders, double barrels.” He paused for a second. “What about a good pump gun?” He asked.

I nodded smirking. “Yeah pump action sounds good.” I pointed behind him. “What about that Spas 12?” 

Brian looked behind him, and took it off the shelf. “Nice choice man. Eighteen inch barrel, folding stock, and it can fire eight rounds either on semi automatic, or pump.”

I gave a low whistle, as he set it on the counter. “Nice paint job.” I said, and I wasn’t kidding. The Spas’ paint job was reminiscent of the front of some WWII era fighter jets. You know? That open shark mouth paint job. “How much?”

“That’s forty two fifty. And don’t give me any ‘I’m good for its.’ We might be bros, but I’m not giving any discounts because of it.”

I waved him off. “It’s fine man. I can pay for it easily.”

His eyes widened slightly, but he didn’t press the issue. “Alright, anything else while you’re at it?” He asked.

“Yeah. I could use a good rifle.” I supplied. “You recommended the Spas, what else you got? Oh preferably something that shoots three-oh-eight Winchester, or two two three Remmington.”

“Why so specific?” He asked, to which I shook my head.

“I honestly can’t explain why. And trust me you really don’t wanna know.” 

Brian simply shrugged. “Alright. Alright. So three-oh-eight, or two two three.” A wicked smile crossed his face. “Well why not both.?”

Now it was my turn to smirk. “Now you’re speaking my language.”

He disappeared into the back of the store, and when he came back, he was carrying two rifles. “G36 for your three-oh-eight. And H&K XM8 for your two two three.”

I continued to smile wickedly. “Yes. I’ll take both.”

“Okay time out on the field.” He said, with a disbelieving tone. “How are you able to afford all this? You work in a damn grocery store.” 

“Well you know that druggie I ended up eighty sixing?” I asked, and Brian noded. “Well turns out, he was a real nasty criminal with a dead or alive bounty on his ass.”

“How big was the bounty?” He asked, and my smirk only got wider.

“One point two mill.”

Brian lost his footing, and almost fell into the register. “You’re bullshitting me! You got a mill two for axing some drug nut!?”

“Yep. Dog the bounty hunter ain’t got shit on me.” I said. “Now about those rifles?”

“Okay Mr. Millionaire.” Brian said laughing in disbelief. “You want some attachments for these guns”

I thought about that for a second, before giving my reply. “Yeah, I’ll take a grenade launcher, a Halo sight for the XM8, and a couple drum mags for both.” 

“Uh Alex… You know that an M203 launcher is illegal in New York State right?” He asked worriedly.

I shook my head and looked him dead in the eye. “Who's the guy selling me two rifles that fire on full auto? Full auto weapons are also illegal in New York State as well. Plus I know you sell that shit.”

“Okay point taken. But you tell no one that I sold this stuff to you.” He said, before placing the sight, the drum mags, a few regular magazines, and the undermounted grenade launcher on the counter. “Anything else?”

“Yeah. I’m gonna need ammo.” I scoffed.

Brian scoffed. “Yeah I figured that much. How much you want.”

I thought about it for a second, and simply said. “Yes.”


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5. M.H.I.

Two months after I had purchased my Cobra, G36, XM8, and Spas 12, I was headed towards M.H.I.’s headquarters in Cazador Alabama. Unfortunately for me, as much as I wanted to turn my Cobra loose on the freeway, I had to obey the speed limits. I couldn’t risk getting pulled over and attempting to explain the cops what I was doing with a small little armory in the trunk of my car. However, after two days on the road, I finally came across a sign that said ‘Welcome to Cazador. Population 686.’ After passing the sign, I laid eyes on the town of Cazador. Alright let’s be honest here. To say that this place was a town, was a little insulting. There were just a couple of buildings, and a catfish factory that allowed people to take a tour of it. If you could believe something like that. 

Following the directions that Earl Harbinger had given me, led me down a dirt path through a forest that kept getting thicker and thicker. Just when I thought I should attempt to turn around, a very high chain-link fence topped with a couple rows of nasty looking razor wire came into view. Separating the fence, was an iron gate with a green smiley face with horns on the top. To the left side of the gate, was a small guard shack. Driving up, I could see that it was occupied by a highly attractive woman with horned rimmed glasses, carrying a 1911 on her right hip, and an M14 EBR laying across her lap, and also visibly pregnant. Now that raised a little red flag. Why is a pregnant woman carrying a marksman rifle?

“Can I help you?” She asked, snapping me out of my thought.

I cleared my throat a bit before answering. “Ah yes I’m looking for M.H.I.”

The woman smiled. “You’re here for the Newbie Course then?” 

I nodded. “Yes ma’am.”

“No need for formalities.” She said, as she carefully stood up, and extended her hand towards me. “I’m Julie. Julie Shackleford Pitt.”

I smiled and shook Julie’s hand, and like Isabelle’s I was surprised to find that she had a very firm grip. Then again this woman had an M14 marksman (or in this case markswoman’s) rifle, so I really shouldn’t have been all that surprised.

“I’m Alex Morrison.” I told Julie, who seemed to be lost in thought.

“Morrison… Oh you’re the guy who axed that Vampire, then crushed him in that garbage compactor.”

I nodded again. “Yes that would be me.” 

“Nice work.” She said as she continued to smile. “Well I’ll get the gate open. Keep driving until you get to the main building, and park in front. Welcome to M.H.I. Oh and nice car.”

I couldn’t help but laugh as the gates opened, and I guided my Cobra towards the main building, which was a big-ass building with brick and concrete walls. The windows were nothing but slits covered in iron bars, and it really gave off this ominous feeling. I parked my car next to this kick-ass blue GTO, and made my way inside the main building. I was surprised to find that the inside looked … I don’t know, normal. There was even a woman who looked like Betty White from the Golden Girls sitting behind a thick oak wood desk. It was certainly not what I was expecting. 

“Need somethin’ son?” The Betty White receptionist asked.

I shook my head, in an attempt to clear the cobwebs. I must have looked lost as hell to her. “Yes ma’am. My name’s Alex Morrison. I’m here for the um … Newbie Course.”

Like Julie had a few minutes ago, this woman seemed to mull over my name for a few minutes. “Oh you’re that young feller what done axed, staked, and crushed that Vampire up in New York.”

I groaned. “Does _everybody_ know that?”

The receptionist scoffed. “Course everybody knows. You done squashed that Vamp but good.”

I smiled and rubbed the back of my neck. “Thank you ma’am.”

“Ma’am?” She scoffed again. “I’m no ‘ma’am.’ My name’s Dorcas.” 

“An honor to meet you Dorcas.” I said respectfully, as I noticed a big revolver underneath her dress. An elderly woman with a gun that size you do not piss off.

Dorcas smiled as we shook hands. “Now yer a mite early, but you can head into the cafeteria. That’s where the other Newbies are.” She said as she jerked her thumb over her shoulder. 

Finding the cafeteria wasn’t a problem. It was behind a set of large double doors, yet to the left of those doors, the wall was lined with dozens of silver plaques. As I got closer, I noticed that they were the names of fallen hunters… With a surprising amount of them having died in December of 1995, and something told me that I didn’t want to know what the hell had caused that. Above the plaques, was another sign that read. _Sic Transit Gloria Mundi_. Whatever the hell that meant.

I shrugged, and made my way through the doors, and into the cafeteria. To my surprise, I found that it was slightly packed. There must have been at least 60 or 70 people here, all from different backgrounds, and most were clustered together. Now I’m not all that much of a social butterfly, so I chose a seat towards the back of the room, and plugged in one of my earbuds, smiling slightly as I listened to _Devil’s Never Cry_. 

It was towards the end of the song, when I noticed someone else was standing over me. I looked up, and nearly fell out of my seat, because standing above me was the most beautiful woman I had ever laid my eyes on. Her long black hair, was tied into a single braid, she had soft yet defined facial features, her eyes were probably the darkest brown I had ever seen, and she had some nice curves. Not incredibly defined mind you, but they were there all the same.

“Mind if I sit here?” She asked. My God even her voice sounds beautiful.

I fumbled to pause my iPod, and cleared my throat. “Uh no. I-I mean feel free.”

She smiled, and took the seat to my right. “So what are you listening to?”

I shrugged. “Just a song from a video game.” I said simply.

“Really?” She asked tilting her head. “What game?”

“It’s the ending song from Devil May Cry 3.” I replied, and to my surprise, her eyes lit up.

“That’s one of my all time favorites!” She said smiling. Wow everything about this woman is perfect. “Capcom knows how to make ‘em. Especially with the Resident Evil games.”

I nearly fell out of my seat. This girl was beautiful, and we liked the same games. Hell I couldn’t help myself, I reached into my backpack, and pulled out the custom Beretta 6F Barry Burton model, that Pat had given me. 

“I know what you mean.” I said with the biggest smile on my face, as I spun the Beretta once cowboy style.

“Holy hell, where did you get that!?” She asked. Eyes wide with jealousy and admiration.

“My friend Pat had it made special for me.” I said proudly. “I’m Alex by the way. Alex Morrison.”

She smiled, and extended her hand. “Clare Valentine. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Likewise.” I replied, as I shook her hand. “So what brings you here?”

Clare tilted her head when I asked my question. “What do you mean?” She asked. 

“What sort of monster did you kill to get you recruited?” I clarified.

“Ohhhh that. I went up against an Ookami.”

“You mean a Japanese Werewolf?” I asked.

“Yeah. Killing that thing wasn’t easy.” She replied.

I tilted my head curiously. “How did you kill it? Stab it seven times with a bamboo dagger, that was blessed by a Shinto Priest?”

“Oh someone watches _Supernatural_ too much.” She laughed.

I laughed along with her, and the more I got to know Clare, the more perfect she seemed to me. “Alright so how did you kill it?”

“I stuffed it into a wood chipper.” She said with a wink.

I had to stifle my laughter on that last remark. “Oh now who's the one who watches _Supernatural_ too much?” 

“Hey a wood chipper pretty much beats anything.” She replied. “What about you? What did you kill to get recruited?”

I smirked. “I hit a Vampire in the side of the head with an axe, staked him through the heart, then crushed him in a trash compactor.” I replied, to a clearly impressed Clare. However all conversation was cut off, as several people stepped onto the stage. On the far left, was a very attractive blonde, next to her was a man with dark skin, with his hair tied into dreadlocks. I recognised Julie easily, and standing next to her was a bear of a man. Next to the bear, stood a man with sandy blonde hair, with a leather bomber jacket, and a cigarette hanging loosely from his lips. Next to him, was another attractive woman, only she had long red hair, and her eyes were slightly fixed on the blonde guy. And finally on the far right, stood another large man who was completely bald, but had a long red beard, and wire rimmed glasses.

The man with sandy blonde hair and the cigarette stepped forward, and began to speak. “Thank you all for coming, and welcome to M.H.I. For those of you who haven’t met me, I’m Earl Harbinger. Director of Operations here at M.H.I. Now, weather it was by myself, or another hunter, each and every one of you here was contacted and offered you a job here, after you survived some sort of encounter with a monster. Now I know that some of you are wondering why you were picked. You might think that you aren’t strong, or tough, or brave, or anything along those lines. However let me tell you this, the mere fact that you survived an encounter with a monster speaks volumes in and of itself.”

A murmur went through the crowd of people, but conversation was cut off once again, as Earl spoke up once more. “But people, I ain’t gonna sugar coat it. Monster hunting is probably the most dangerous profession in the world. I’m sure you all saw the plaques in the hallway. Each of those represents a fallen Hunter, hell the mortality rate for a first year hunter is so low, you don’t want to know. Hell I wouldn’t be surprised if anyone here walked out right now.” 

The room stayed silent, and not a single person moved. “No? Alright then listen up. Some of you might be former law enforcement, or former military. Many of you have had no training at all. Let me clarify. Every one of you will undergo the same training regardless of what your background is. Listen to everything your instructors say. Every piece of information. No piece of knowledge is useless knowledge here.”

“Now some of you are going to wash out. Some will be kicked out. But mostly, a lot of you are going to quit. And before you try to doubt me, it’s going to happen. Those of you that do walk out, will be compensated for your time. But those of you who complete your training will be assigned a Hunter Team. Each team responds to monster outbreaks, and other events as they happen. Some of you will be assigned to support said teams. Intelligence gathering, or interfering with the local law enforcement can be more difficult at times than killing monsters. Now are there any questions? No? Alright then. Let’s get started.”

The next four months were brutal as hell. I did nothing but train to hunt, fight, and kill all manner of monster. The classroom sections were boring, but they were mercy compared to all the obstacle courses, and the cross-country runs. Now my dad always said that compared his training, any manual labor myself and my two brothers had to do, was nothing. But M.H.I’s training, could make any form of military training seem like a walk in the park. (Plus I could take my dad’s little lecture, and throw it back at him.) Also, while I said that some parts of the training were difficult, others were downright disgusting. Like learning to stake and decapitate undead creatures. Oh and the Gut Crawl… I will never say what that entails, hell I’ll take that to my grave.

However, four months to the day that the training started, it was finally over. I was standing in the cafeteria, along with some 30 other newly graduated Hunters. And I was happy to see that Clare had made it as well. All of us were wearing the standard M.H.I. Issued armor, which was made out of heavy duty Kevlar, Nomex, and several ceramic plates. Just as he had done four months ago, Earl Harbinger was standing in front of the rest of us.

“Congratulations. You all made it. You’re all hunters now.” He said as he took out a piece of paper from his jacket. “Now here are all your Hunter Teams.”

Earl rambled off names, as Clare and I had a small conversation to ourselves.

“Nice to see you didn’t wash out.” I told her, as we bumped fists.

“Likewise. So where do you think you’ll go?” She asked.

“You know, I never really thought about that.” I replied.

Clare was about to say something, but Earl’s voice rang out. “Martin’s team, Syracuse New York: Morrison, Marston, Valentine.”

I couldn’t believe it. Not only was I going home, Clare and I got assigned to the same team. We smiled at each other, and bumped fists once again.

“Well there you go. You have your teams, and you’ll leave first thing tomorrow. Congratulations, and once again. Welcome to M.H.I.


End file.
